


Consequences

by YIWT



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YIWT/pseuds/YIWT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots.  Different possibilities for what happens to Loki post-Avengers.   Latest one: Loki and the Chitauri Plan (still mid-Avengers, but if I continue it it will go on to address the aftermath).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This arose because of all the stories (including one I wrote) where Asgard decides to punish Loki in some horrible way, and Thor lets it happen. The more I think about it, the more I think Thor is selfish and might instead figure: justice be damned, that's my *brother* we're talking about. So…

 

*****************************

Thor dashed in and threw himself at the cage. "Loki," he said against the bars. Hoarse and unsteady. "I didn't know, brother I swear to you, I had no idea that this would happen. I only wanted to bring you home so that Father could set things right… I had no idea I was bringing you home to this."

Loki looked up slowly. The muzzle had been removed, but he had not seen fit to speak to anybody since his arrival. Not counting, of course, the noises he had made during the flogging. That wasn't really speaking anyway.

Thor continued in the silence, almost desperate: "I didn't know Father would be so cruel – how could I?"

Loki's mouth was dry, but he licked at his lips before speaking. "That wasn't cruelty, you fool," he rasped. He was surprised by the state of his own voice; he'd expected to be a little hoarse from all the yelling and roaring, but now he found he could hardly talk. "He meant it as a kindness."

"What?"

"People want blood. If the Allfather hadn't given them this," he gestured wearily over his shoulder with one chained hand, "He would have had to give them a gruesome execution. This way, at least I can be killed cleanly."

Thor's brow was drawn. "Cleanly or not… Brother, they still mean to execute you."

How did someone so stupid ever hope to become a king? "Of course. That is what I meant when I said  _killed_."

"And… and you'll just let them?"

Loki snorted. "I wasn't aware that I had a choice."

Thor was silent a moment, searching his face. Then: "You knew this would happen."

He sounded almost  _accusing._ "Yes," Loki sighed, too exhausted for anger. He would face the end calmly and with dignity – that was all he had the energy for anyway. "I don't claim ignorance, Thor. Everything I did, I did by choice, and I knew perfectly well what the punishment would be."

Thor swallowed. "Why didn't you  _tell_  me?"

"Tell you what?"

"You-, you didn't tell me that I was bringing you to your  _death,_ " he stammered _. "_ Loki… how could you think I…? You must know I would never have brought you home to this. However much anger had grown between us."

Loki kicked himself. It had actually occurred to him, down in Midgard when Thor first clapped him in Father's chains, that the idiot hadn't thought this all the way through.  _I love you_ and  _come home with me,_ Thor had been saying. He clearly didn't realize he was delivering his brother to execution, and all Loki would have needed to do was remind him:  _I've done evil in the name of Asgard; you know what the penalty is._  He hadn't said it, because it had smacked too much of begging for his life, which he had promised himself he would not do.

"But you _did_ bring me," he pointed out coolly. Cruelly. It felt good. "As I knew you would. At least this way you can insist it was an accident. Imagine how hard it would be to live with yourself, if you had to really _own_ what you've done..."

Thor drew away, mouthing soundlessly, eyes wet, and Loki pressed on. "So, did you come to say farewell? You shouldn't have. It would be easier to forget that you killed your little brother if your last memory of him wasn't-"

"Loki, please-"

"-wearing the chains  _you_ locked on him in the cell  _you_  dragged him to, and-"

" _Loki!_ Stop it!" Thor shouted over him at last.

Loki stopped, and just gave a look of cold disdain. "Leave, Thor. If you're looking for comfort, you won't get it from me. I have better things to do with my last night than hold your hand and pretend to forgive you."

Thor faced away, head bowed, and stayed there for a while. Then, suddenly: "Loki… those chains bind your magic, do they not?"

Loki blinked. The grief had gone from Thor's voice; there was some energy to it now. "What?"

"Your chains. They-"

"-Bind my magic. Yes. Why?" He forbid himself to hope.

"Are you able to travel between worlds with your magic bound?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I-… Loki, we don't have much time, Heimdall will be hearing all of this." Thor spun around and grasped the bars again. "If I tear open this cage and battle our way through the guards, do you know of a way we could escape the realm? I will have to go with you; now that I see how Father deals with treason in his sons I would not want to stay here and experience it myself."

Loki could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Thor, think. Are you really-?"

"Yes: I will leave all this – my parents, my throne, my home. As angry as we are at each other, your life is more important to me than any of that.  _Can we get away?_ "

Loki swallowed. Nodded.

That was good enough for Thor; he raised his hammer and smashed through the prison and smashed through the guards who poured in to investigate the commotion. He grabbed Loki by the hand and they ran up the stairs together. He let Loki tug him down this passageway and that, running, and he panted  _where are we going,_  but Loki only shook his head and reminded:  _Heimdall,_  and wouldn't speak it aloud.

They reached the edge of the Bifrost, felled their pursuers, and had a moment before any new ones arrived. Loki stood bent over, catching his breath. "This is the only way I know without my powers," he panted. "I realize it's not a very attractive option. You don't have to come along."

"I will come." Thor swallowed and looked down into the void. "What happens when we jump?"

"We fall. Perhaps for a long time. It's empty and very cold. We see some terrible things. Eventually we stop falling, and land somewhere, and pray that it's better than what we left behind." He shook his head. "Our chances would be better without these," he said, jerking on his chains, "But I don't think we have time now to think of how to get them off. We can worry about it when we land."

Thor bit his lip. "Loki…" He drew a key out of his pocket. "I stole this." He unlocked one of the magical cuffs, and Loki felt himself bursting with joy…

…Until, instead of unlocking the other side, Thor snapped the open cuff onto his own wrist and shoved the key into his mouth. Loki watched in horror as he tipped his head back and worked to swallow.

"There." Thor clapped him on the shoulder. "I love you, brother, but I don't think I trust you just now. This way I  _know_  that you will not leave me falling through the abyss alone. You will have your magic back once you land me somewhere safe."

Loki battled down a burst of admiration for the clever move, and tried to snarl. "I'll land you somewhere safe, and then I'll filet you like a fish until I find that key."

"You will not," Thor declared with certainty. "I've seen you use your knives, brother. When you want a man dead, he dies." He touched the wound on his abdomen, smiling a little. "This was what my Midgard friends would call a  _love tap_. I knew the moment you gave it to me, and it was the first hope I'd had in so long that we were still-"

" _Shh!"_ Loki tilted his head to listen. People were coming. "Hold on to your hammer," he instructed, "And hold on to me, and don't let go."

Thor stepped close and grabbed. "I'm ready."

Loki threw his arms around Thor's chest. He didn't say anything, but as he pulled them both over the edge he gave a squeeze. Thor could, if he wanted to, elect to believe that it was a hug.

*****************************

 **The End.**  Let me know what you thought!

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If I had more time, this one would be more than a one-shot, because I think it’s an interesting idea. Feel free to steal it if the muses are talking to you.

 

*****************************************

Odin gave a detailed rendition of all that had gone on in Midgard, accurate for the most part except that Loki would not have characterized those creatures as _allies_ given the choice.

The hall listened, still and rapt.  Loki was still as well – he found himself too nervous even to fidget; he moved as through molasses and sometimes had to remind himself to breathe.

When the tale was told Odin rose from his throne.  “Loki,” he said, loud enough still to be heard through the hall.   “You will be punished.”  And then silence.

The injustice of that, the silence more than anything else, had Loki shrugging free of his guards to step forwards and protest.  “ _What_?  Father, I deserve no punishment,” he argued.  “I rid us of those _things_ that wanted only to spread death, and I did it without risking a single drop of Asgardian blood.  Nor did I use trickery of any kind, as I know how distasteful you find it.”  _Except when it’s trickery you’ve ordered yourself._ But Loki bit down on that; antagonizing the Allfather now would be simply stupid.  “I led them straight into a fair battle and made sure they died there,” he said.  “You couldn’t have planned it better yourself.”

Odin’s eye was narrowed.  “No drop, eh?  You risked yourself.”

“I am not of Asgard.  And I assumed the risk freely.”

“You risked Thor.”

“That was his own doing,” Loki insisted.  “Or yours.   I didn’t call him, I didn’t want him, I did everything in my power to remove him from the scene.   You have always been just in this, Father: do not punish _me_ for Thor’s impulsiveness.  I did all I could to prevent it.  As usual.”

Odin turned away.  “I cannot deny that your words are truth to the letter.  But they are not truth in spirit, Loki.  Tell me that you understand this.”  _Tell me that you are not a monster._

Loki was silent for some time.  It hurt, what Odin was asking him.   On the one hand he wanted to snarl that of _course_ he had a conscience… but on the other, if he admitted remorse he was admitting guilt, and admitting guilt was never a good way to go about escaping punishment.  “I won’t say I risked nothing of value,” he admitted at last.  “Or that the victory was bloodless – or that I thought it would be.  I knew there would be loss on Midgard, yes.”

Odin was nodding, grave.  Too grave.   His jaw was set and that was just how he had looked when he sent Thor away to _die_.  Loki suddenly felt queasy.    He cleared his throat and went on.  “But taking a few human lives does not merit death.  So you will not order it for me.”  His voice shook.

“I will not,” Odin assured at once, and that was something.  “But you acted with a brutality that I cannot condone.  Cannot be known to have condoned.    Other realms will hate and fear Asgard while you walk free.”

Imprisonment – forever?   Trapped and alone, never again to _live…_ such a punishment would be little better than death.  It might even grow to be worse, eventually.  Loki went to one knee.  He could hardly choke out words.  “Their hatred and their fear will fade in time,” he managed at last.

It was an eternity before Odin said, softly: “Yes.”

Loki was dizzy with relief and also still sick, so he took a long slow breath to compose himself before talking again.  “How long?” he said to the floor, and then looked up.

Odin crossed his arms over his chest.  “We will find out how many mortal lives were lost to your plotting.   They were only collateral damage, I know that, but they were damage nonetheless.  You will pay for them.  One year for every life.”

The room tilted; Loki was swaying where he knelt.   An awful lot of buildings had crumbled, with an awful lot of people inside.   This was millennia.  He tried to steady his voice.  “One year of what?”  Asgard was not known for the gentility of its dungeons.  There would be darkness and cold and starvation, at the least.  Perhaps filth and rodents if he was unlucky.  Perhaps torture if he was unluckier still.

“The site of your crime will be the site of your punishment,” Odin declared.  “I will lock you away in a cavern beneath the earth of Midgard, so far from her air and her life that your magic will be useless to you.  What power you do manage to summon you will need for more than escape; you will need healing.  Your prison will keep you in constant pain, and you will starve and suffer until you’ve paid for what you’ve done.”  Another long pause.  “Do you understand your punishment, Loki?”

He shook his head, trying to speak.

“I know it is harsh.  But it is deserved.”  He sighed.  “Say your farewells.  Comfort yourself as best you can.  I’ll take you in the morning.”

“Wait.”  Loki swallowed, looked up, tried to put his thoughts in order.  “It _is_ a harsh sentence, Father, it is a terrible sentence, but I know better than to ask you to lighten it for me.  I have just one request.”

“Go on.”  Odin’s voice was neutral, even interested.  He had not yet foreclosed the possibility in his mind of granting favors – he might yet agree.  He _would._

“Some mortals – not all, but some – disdain penalties of this nature,” Loki began delicately.  “Some might perhaps sleep better if they forewent their right to vengeance, rather than piled years upon years of pain for me.  Ask them.  That is my request.  Send someone to Midgard to converse with the friends of the fallen, or down to Hel to ask the dead themselves.  I have no doubt I will be spending many, many centuries in the cave you prepare for me.   But I do not want to spend any more time there than is necessary.”

Odin cocked his head.  “You would look to the Midgardians you slaughtered for _mercy_?”

Loki shrugged.  “Some Midgardians are more bloodthirsty than others.  Asking cannot hurt.”

“That is true,” Odin agreed at last.   “Very well, I grant your request: any victim who wishes to spare you a year of your pain may do so.  All would agree that that is justice.”  Odin’s eyes were shining with something very like pride.  “I will miss you, Loki.”

“You’ll see me again.”  _Perhaps in very short order._ He cleared his throat.  “One more thing, Father.  The mortals… dead or not, they will be frankly terrified of you.  Even those who wished to show clemency won’t do it; they will fear to disagree with the sentence you imposed.  So, if you want the concession you’ve granted me to be more than just an empty gesture, you mustn’t appear to the mortals yourself.  They must be able to decide without the full force of your majesty to frighten them.”

Odin, of course, nodded.  No doubt he was remembering the last few times he tried appearing to mortals in recent times.  All had been struck absolutely stupid with terror.   “It is no empty gesture I offer.  Hela will plead your cause instead of me.”

“Ooh, Father, no.”  Loki’s wince was only half pretend.  “I can kiss Hela goodnight because she’s family, but think: she is the most fearsome-looking-”

“Then who do you propose?” Odin interrupted, his patience thinning.   “Any one of us, _any_ Asgardian will terrify the mortals to incoherency.  They are as worms next to us, and they know it.”

“Mm.  That is true.”  Loki stared at the floor.  “ _I_ am no Asgardian,” he offered, quiet and even.  “Perhaps I should carry the message myself.”  A thousand thousand years of manipulations went into the earnestness of his tone, the roundness of his eyes.   If Odin agreed then this punishment would be _nothing,_ it would be over before the orphans he created had had time to bear children of their own.  His silver tongue against the weak little minds of humans?  He would have them renouncing year after year after year.  They would offer to serve the sentence in his _place_ if he wished them to.

But Odin’s gaze turned a little flinty, and Loki was suddenly reminded that during all the eons he had been perfecting the art of trickery, Odin had been right beside him perfecting the art of not being tricked.  “Father?” he ventured at last, nervous.  If he had pressed too far, if Odin took away even what he had already granted…   But at this point it was too late to turn back and retract the suggestion.  Odin would smell guile all over him.  “Father?” he said again.  He projected innocence with every fiber of his being.  “Shall I talk to them?”

“Look at me, Loki.”  Odin's voice was heavy with disappointment.

_Brazen it out.  Look blank, no guilt, no plot, vaguely sad for poor dead Midgardians.  Blank.  Now._

They stared at each other for a long moment.  But Loki lowered his eyes first.

******************************************

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Yeah okay so Loki still doesn't *get it* here; he’s still clearly got ant/boot mentality going on. I’d kind of be curious about how that would change in le cave. Hm.
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, instead of judgment at Odin's hands... this time, Loki finds himself in Federal court in New York. A little bit of Law & Order knowledge is probably close enough to enable visualization here. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, in this story I imagine Loki having the power to read mortal minds at least to some degree. Dunno why.

 

* * *

The first time he was dragged before a Midgard judge Loki had no idea what was going on. They dumped him in a small cage near the great hall ( _courtroom,_ he learned by probing the mind of the bored guard who was sitting outside his cage) and told him to wait his turn; there was another criminal ahead of him who had to go first.

He was mildly offended that he wasn't considered important enough to skip the line, but on the other hand, the sooner he was judged the sooner he would be punished. Waiting was probably a good thing, on the balance.

To occupy himself while he waited Loki looked around. There was another prisoner there too, in a different cage, and there were some worrying things in his angry little mind. One was the stray thought, aimed in Loki's direction:  _Pretty boy like that, he'll be somebody's girlfriend aright._  That seemed worth following up on, so Loki ransacked the mind of the guard and discovered that it was not entirely uncommon – though not officially condoned – for prisoners to rape one another for purposes of sex or dominance. The best protections were gang affiliation, which he did not yet have, and brawn, which he did not have and never would. Wonderful. Well, he would think of something.

Just when he was starting to wonder how they planned to cram a rapist into this tiny cell with him, guards came to fetch him and bring him into the courtroom. He was sat down at a table beside a woman who tried to whisper to him and shake his hand, but she didn't look like an enemy and Loki was much more concerned with the people who did. There was a quick little man in a suit whose job was to accuse him, and guards who stood around ready to subdue him if he misbehaved. Not that there was much he could do, mortal and unarmed… but he found the presence of the guards gratifying. There were spectators, too, sitting in benches at the back. Many of them appeared very angry, but there was a short wooden barrier keeping them away, and for some unfathomable reason they seemed unwilling to storm it. Perhaps it was electrified?

Everyone clambered to their feet as the judge entered the room, and once things had settled again the audience started. The judge spoke into a microphone. "United States versus Loki Laufeyson."

He wondered whether he could get the judge to repeat the announcement minus  _Laufeyson;_ he didn't much like it and  _United States versus Loki_ had a marvelous ring to it. But before he could ask, the procedure moved on. The woman next to him stood and introduced herself to the judge as  _appearing on behalf of the defendant_ , and Loki laughed aloud when he realized that the poor thing was meant to be championing him.

He tugged on her sleeve and whispered: "Please tell me this is not a trial by combat."

The look she gave him was quite expressive, so he dug into her mind and discovered that trial by combat had gone out of fashion everywhere that was considered civilized. Who knew.

"This isn't your trial at all," the woman said at last, once she was seated again. "This is just arraignment, just... just the beginning of your case. Okay? Now there's no way in hell you're getting bail, so what happens after this is they take you over to the MCC – that's the jail. And then I come visit you, and we plan a strategy for your defense. Okay?"

Loki was frankly curious about what kind of  _strategy_ could be employed to defend him. He nodded.

Soon it was the turn of the quick little man in a suit to talk, and he did a very poor job in Loki's opinion, as he sounded bored and perfunctory, and there was no discussion at all of punishment, unless  _remand_ was a new type of Midgardian execution he had never heard of.

The judge made some noises, no one except the spectators exhibited any anger, and then the hearing was over. He was led away by guards in suits. They were courteous to him but still he couldn't help but notice that they wore telephone earpieces, but no armor. Was it more important for guards to stay in communication than to stay alive?

The cell they brought him to was in a different building and was rather like a small room, much larger than the holding cage he had waited for courtroom in. When he arrived the room was empty; he was told that his cellmate had a lawyer visit and would not return for half an hour or more. Bars and mesh made the window quite depressing, and anyway there was only the grey side of a building to look at, so Loki looked for entertainment elsewhere.

There was a book on the cellmate's bed which appeared to be a self-help manual for criminals preparing to stand trial. Since knowledge could only help him, Loki picked it up and started reading.

Some time later he heard footsteps and clanking, and he put the book down. Time to meet his new best friend or worst enemy.

* * *

The man was  _enormous._  Tall and heavy, with hair down past his shoulders in ratty braids, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms easily as thick as Loki's neck.

They stood staring at each other for a moment, and then Loki's nerves frayed and he said, all in one breath: "I should inform you I have received penetrative sex from a stallion the size of a bus and so if you're hoping to intimidate me with whatever pathetic little tool you've got hidden in those ugly trousers there I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed, because I can assure you I will not be impressed."

The prisoner's forehead creased. "Huh?" he said at last.

Loki dove into his mind to learn the style of his thoughts, and tailored his message accordingly. "I once fucked a horse. So if you show me your cock I'm only going to laugh at it."

A long minute passed. Finally the man snapped: "Where you went to college at."

Loki's turn to stare in stupid confusion. "What?"

The man heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Where. Did you go. To college?" he enunciated carefully, and this time Loki understood that it was meant to be a question.

"Oh. Beg pardon." He mind-read from a guard down the hall to find an institution that was prestigious, because he deserved it, and also foreign, in order to explain why he didn't know the first thing about the city around him. "Oxford."

"Yeah. Aight." He was nodding, apparently very satisfied.

"My name's Loki."

"Low-Key? How you doin Low-Key. I'm Efony."

Didn't sound like any name Loki had ever heard before, but then, he supposed he was rather out of touch with modern names anyway. "Hello... Efony."

Another eye-roll. "Ayn-fuh-nee. Wit a T-H."

"Ah, sorry, of course. Anthony."

"You wanna help me wit a motion? I'm wri'en it myself, I got it all wrote out aready, but I know I ain't write it real..." He groped for a word. "It ain't..."

"Coherent?" Loki could not for the life of him understand why Anthony spoke as if he had marbles in his mouth; his  _thoughts_ were not so strangely accented. "Certainly," he said, and jumped down from the bunk. "I'm an excellent writer and I'd be happy to look over your work. But – forgive me, but isn't that something your lawyer is supposed to do?" The defense manual was proving useful already.

Anthony shook his head, laughing softly. "Man, you new. You gotta protect y'self, man. These lawyers... they do what they gotta do, an you gotta do what you gotta do."

Loki touched his mind again. Anthony had been in prison several times before, and had dodged prison several times in addition to that. He could be a valuable source of information, even more so if Loki could get freely at what he knew instead of having to dig around for fragments of it in his drug-addled head.

"Anthony, how about this. Let's make a deal," he proposed. "I'll help you with whatever you're writing, and then, we'll talk about  _my_ case and you tell me what you think I should be doing to protect myself. How does that sound?"

A slow, ponderous nod. "Aight."

* * *

**The End.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of think Loki would do just fine in our criminal justice system. It's pretty much as crazy as he is. In fact, this story is dedicated to a couple of defendants I've known for whose behavior there is absolutely no better explanation than that the God of Chaos was whispering in their ear all along.
> 
> And, I don't really think I'm going to continue this, even though I do think that an attorney-client visit with Loki would be gallons of fun. I just have no idea where the story would be going and it would likely descend very quickly into crack, so this is it unless sudden inspiration strikes.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Next I'm contemplating one where Odin comes down pretty squarely on Loki's side. I usually write a pretty harsh Odin and I want a change.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is my version of Odin trying his bestest at A+++ parenting. He's still Odin, though. :-/
> 
> But at least there's no favoritism here. If the boys are treated differently, they've earned it.

 

* * *

The great hall was full – everyone of consequence had come to witness their return. Thor led Loki in, a hand on his elbow, as much comfort as precaution. Loki was helpless given the enchanted chains and muzzle, and surely it must be difficult for him to be dragged before the court thus, defeated and disgraced.

When they reached the foot of the throne, Thor waited, holding his breath, readying himself to intervene if the sentence were too cruel. Father  _would not_ order execution. He could not.

But Odin's first words were for Thor. "Are you trying to make mockery?" he hissed. And  _then_ he turned to Loki. "How  _dare_  you appear before me looking so ridiculous."

Thor's jaw dropped at the injustice; it was not Loki's choice to be bound and silenced! "I have the keys, father," he began, but Odin snapped his fingers and his voice stopped up in his throat.

Odin ignored the keyring, and only glared at his younger son.

Loki stared stone-faced for a moment… and then rolled his eyes. The gag vanished from his face a moment later; the chains melted from his wrists. "I beg pardon, Father," he said smoothly, "But Thor was most insistent. I did tell him that the precaution was useless. As well as silly."

"You-…" Thor cleared his throat to rid it of the remnants of Odin's spell. "You could have…?"

"You always have underestimated my powers, brother."

"Thor: silence." Odin enforced it with a gesture, a sharp slash of magic through the air. "Now, Loki," he said, and Loki stilled at once. "You have done terrible things."

Loki only looked mulish, and Father didn't look to be feeling generous, so Thor coughed hard and managed to interrupt again. "Father. Please hear me," he croaked. "I would ask mercy for Loki. He need not be killed or locked away. Surely you have the power to strip him of his sorcery, do you not? If you did that, he could be allowed to go free, no longer a danger to-"

He stopped abruptly when Loki bent and vomited all over his boots.

* * *

"Brother?" Thor was saying. "Brother, are you unwell? Loki?" And he was  _touching,_  putting his  _hand_  on Loki's back, and the touch made Loki sicker and he threw up again, only this time his stomach was mostly empty and it was just wrenching, wracking spasms that brought him to his knees and then to all fours. He couldn't stop.

His  _magic._  The sense he relied most on in his life, the thing he needed more than eyes or ears or limbs, the current that coursed through him so strongly it would burn his  _bones_  without an outlet. His  _magic._  Thor would stand over him now and pretend to be concerned, and at the same time propose to cripple him, to ruin him in the worst way possible, to rip away what made him himself.

_Death first,_  he managed to think through his panic, and the thought helped. Death. If Odin actually ordered this atrocity, he would kill himself before they could enact it. Surely he would have time: he could conjure a dagger and cut his own throat, or dispense with the weaponry entirely and just burst all into flames. Painful, but he would die  _intact._

"Loki? Hush, Loki, no. Listen. Listen."  _Odin,_ he realized at last, kneeling beside him, rubbing his back, draped over him in a way that felt intensely protective. If only he could be sure…

"No," he whispered. He couldn't even bear to speak it as a question.

"No," Odin agreed at once. "Of  _course_  not, Loki, how could you think that?"

"Thor…"

"Thor is a fool; he doesn't understand. Magic isn't a part of him. But it is of me, and I swear to you I would never,  _ever_ do this thing to you. It would be an abomination. I would never allow it. I would smite anyone who tried."

That sounded quite definitive. Loki knelt up and winced down at the mess he had made. He reached for a spell to clean it up, but Odin was already doing the same and their magicks sparked together when they touched.

Odin's lips twitched and he leaned in to press a kiss to Loki's temple. "Oh,  _Loki_."

Loki was still feeling too shaken to smile, but he did manage to look around and notice that Thor was standing and watching the whole thing in absolute bewilderment. "He doesn't even understand."

"I'll explain and he will. He'll feel the same horror we do, and he'll beg your pardon from the bottom of his heart." Odin looked up. "Go wait for me in my room, Thor. I'll be there in a few moments."

"After you're done punishing me?" Loki guessed. He gave permission with an exhausted wave. "I'm ready. Do what you like. Just… not that."

"You're  _not_ ready. You look terrible. Take a bath and eat something. We'll discuss it in the morning."

He let Odin help him to his feet, but then hung on to his arm. "Wait. Father, you know I won't sleep if you leave me to dread it all night. Please, just… just tell me. Whatever it is. I'd rather know."

Odin shook his head. "You are so concerned with your punishment, Loki, but it's the crime that is important. You killed without reason – and I raised you better than that."

Finally,  _finally_ Loki felt the beginnings of guilt. He looked into Odin's eyes to make sure Odin took notice; it would surely help him. "I'm sorry, Father."

"No… you aren't sorry enough." He sounded resigned. "I have failed you somehow, failed to teach you. You don't realize the gravity of what you did."

"I do," he protested, knowing immediately that he did not.

"Leave me. I still have your brother to deal with."

Loki gave him a sheepish smile. "Jumping right from curing my stupidity to curing Thor's. What a difficult night you're having."

Odin's eye was suddenly  _piercing._ " _Thor's_  was stupidity; you were willfully barbaric," he snapped. "And Thor's I put a stop to before it was consummated. Get out."

"Well-…" Loki groped but there was nothing to defend himself with. He fell back on: "I am sorry." Perhaps if he said it enough times it would start to sound true. Perhaps it would even  _be_ true.

Odin gestured to where he'd knelt puking a few moments ago. "I may have the composure not to empty my stomach on the throne room floor, but what you did makes me just as sick."

That was harsh. "Father…"

"It was  _sickening._ And if you don't understand that for yourself, I don't think punishment will help you." The single eye moved over him briskly. "You… lack something."

Odin was  _wrong;_ whatever it was Loki was supposedly lacking was hurting, now, quite a bit. There was a physical pain in his upper chest, and it was starting to choke him. He realized he was going to cry. "I'm sorry-"

"And you should know, Loki: I thought long and hard about casting you from my home. Disowning you." Loki gasped for breath, trembling, skin prickling all over,  _freezing_. At last Odin sighed. "I thought about it, desired it even, but I knew it would be a lie. For good or for ill you are my son. I wish you would stop doing things that make me regret it." He caught Loki behind the neck and kissed him again, on the forehead, wearily.

"Father, please…"

"Now go. I will talk to your brother."

"I'm  _sorry_ … I won't do it again," he promised.

"I said go, Loki."

Loki went. He comforted himself with the thought that this scene would never be repeated; he really  _wouldn't_ do it again. And hopefully the next time he got into trouble Father would be easier on him. Maybe a blood eagle or something.

* * *

**The End.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is Odin bringing his A-game in my view. Okay he's a couple of centuries late because Loki has been allowed to grow *way* out of control, but one way to teach tiny sociopaths (ie, kids!) about right and wrong is to heap disappointment on them until they internalize what it is they're not supposed to do. Hopefully this will help Loki get the message. And I don't think it was *too* mean, considering what Loki did. I think Odin mixed his mad-face with enough hugs for it to qualify as tough love. (Or almost enough, anyway. I think Loki would explode of confusion if he ever actually got as much affection as he needed.)
> 
> What's up next: Um... as much as I intended to be done with Forfeit, my porny muses have gone ahead and infected my brain with 2 more chapters of it. So, that's probably what is up next. After that, I may post one-shots from the Rehabilitationverse, but the problem with that is I'm afraid to get sucked in again. So I'm not sure. I also have an entire headcanon for Loki In Jail laid out, but I haven't started writing that yet. Bottom line is, porn next, and after that I dunno.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight AU for the Battle of New York: Loki comes to regret having dropped Thor from the Helicarrier.

************************************************

Tony was knocked out of the air by a blast of _something –_  magic, it must be; it didn't feel like any explosion he'd ever felt before – and landed on his back in the rubble.  He started to stand, but then someone was dragging him up to pin him hard to a wall. 

_Loki._

The god looked around and his eyes were bright – manic and mirthful. “Now, why doesn't my brother come save you, I wonder?” he mused, showing teeth in what was almost a smile. “Could it be you're not quite as important to him as you thought? Could it be he's too drunk on the joy of battle to give a damn about what's happening to his allies?  How unfortunate for you.  I'm sure he'll make a marvelous toast at your funeral.”

Tony frowned inside the suit. The spite seemed real, and so did the flippancy. Loki didn't care. “Could it be he's _dead_?” he snapped back, angry all of a sudden. Point Break there might have been kind of a bully, but still. “Your own brother. Show a little fucking respect, why don't you. Even _animals_ do better than this.” Contempt came through the speakers really well, as it turned out.

Loki flinched. “What do you mean,” he said fast. Suspicious. All of a sudden the mirth was gone, and the mania grown to portions that scared even Tony Stark. “What do you mean, what are you talking about – where's my brother?”

“You know damn well where your brother is, Rudolph. Six feet under.”

“What are you – _Don't play games with me, Stark!_ ” Abruptly Loki was shoving, _slamming_ him against the wall, hard enough to crack it. The suit whirred and beeped in protest, and his head hurt, but Tony was a lot more concerned with the glowing batch of rage and crazy that had exploded in front of him. “Lie once more and I will crack you like a lobster and I'll peel the meat out in strands.” Loki's voice had gone raw and raspy. “ _Look at me, man of iron, and answer true._ Where. Is. My. Brother?”

Tony swallowed, trying to get rid of the visual. Loki was breathing hard into his face, and the suit beeped at that too, because his breath was _freezing,_ like liquid nitrogen freezing, and it frosted Tony's lenses til he couldn't see. Loki's grip tightened, metal creaked, and at the thought of those lobster-crackers with the serrated jaws Tony shuddered and forced himself to speak up. “You dropped him out of the Helicarrier. In the cage. Remember?”

Loki let go, swallowing hard himself. “He fell to earth. That would not kill him,” he said at once, with quiet intensity. As if wishing it could make it true.

For all Tony knew it sometimes  _could;_ Loki was a god after all.  But this time he knew better. “Have you ever put an egg inside a jar... and shaken it?” He demonstrated the gesture, and Loki's eyes were glued to his gauntlet, wide. “Thor was _painted_ on the walls of that cage. I'm not even sure there's enough of him left for a pyre.”

“No – _No!_ ” Loki turned away, holding his head. “ _No_ , it can't be, not Thor, he never-... of course he's all right, he's _always_ all right...” He spun back and shoved at Tony again, but weaker this time – more desperate. He was pleading. “I have to see him. Take me to him. Take me to my brother.”

Tony glanced up to watch Chitauri riders zoom past in packs. “Uh, dude... we're kinda in the middle of a battle here.”

“A-? _Fuck_ your battle!” Loki threw his scepter down and gestured to it. “There – battle's over. Close the portal with it, command those things to fall on their own swords, no more battle. Now _take me to my brother,_ Stark! Do it!”

Tony spoke fast into his comm, relaying the situation, calling for backup. He bent to pick up the scepter – carefully, as Loki was still breathing hard over him and looking anything but stable.

Once he had the scepter safely out of the god's reach he proposed: “We go to the top of my tower. We clean up this mess. And _then_ I take you to your brother's body. There's no rush, Loki,” he added, a little less harshly. “Thor's long dead. There's nothing you can do about it now. Come on – hang on.”

He offered a hand but Loki ignored it, throwing arms around his neck instead. “No. It _can't be,”_ he said again, muffled by the suit, as they flew. “It can't. I can help him. I have power like you've never seen. Unlimited power. I do.”

“What part of _puree_ are you not understanding?” Tony said, but with the mic off. The last thing he wanted was for Loki to let go. If he lost track of the little asshole now after all this...

He landed on top of the tower, scepter in hand. “Slide it in there,” Loki said, looking blank and shell-shocked. “I had it built with an off-switch. In case I changed my mind.”

Tony did as he said, pushing the scepter into the force field, fumbling around until the portal beam went away. “And now...?”

“Now hold the scepter and order them all to die. Will it.”

Tony stared stupidly.

“Oh, for-... Give me.” Loki reached out, impatient.

The others would arrive any second. If Clint shot first and asked questions later, they might lose any chance to sort this out. Tony handed over the scepter, ready to blast him on his ass...

But Loki didn't turn sinister again. Instead, he widened his stance and closed his eyes, and when the tool started glowing he bared his teeth in a snarl. A moment later Chitauri racers began falling out of the sky.

“There,” he said, and dropped the scepter. “Now they all long for death, and they're killing themselves to make it happen. Now _take me to my brother._ I'll go as your prisoner. Take me.” He held out his wrists and waited.

He seemed saner now, calmer. Which was almost too bad; sanity was not going to do him any favors once denial wore off and grief really set in. “Is there even any point cuffing you?” Tony asked. “You could always just erase them, right?”

“Yes but it will make your humans feel safer and I want no more delays. There. Take me now.” He sparkled with power a moment and then he _was_ cuffed, big dungeon-looking metal shackles at his wrists and ankles.

This was against his better judgment, it really was, but Loki's shock seemed genuine. “Okay. Uh, c'mere.” He bent and scooped the god up like a damsel in distress, and Loki lay disturbingly still in his arms. Mouth pressed shut and eyes wet.

The flight was mostly silent. Tony had plenty of commentary about the buildings smoking beneath them and the wounded civilians' screams, but he kept the mic off for all that, because even Tony Stark had his limits of assholery. All he said was: “Hey, Loki. I'm sorry about your brother.”

**************************************************

 **The End.** If you want this to be less depressing, just imagine that Tony was lying. He totally might have been, right? *sniffle*

Let me know what you think!

  



	6. Loki Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Post-avengers. Odin is kind of a troll here. I don't know where this random little ficlet came from - sorry.

Loki Season

"Loki." Odin's voice was heavy. "The evil you have done cannot be forgiven. You deserve to die - that is justice." He sighed. "However. You are my son, and I find I don't wish to kill you myself. Nor to order it done."

He stepped back and raised his voice, so that it echoed all through the hall. "I now strip from this man his station, and the protection of my name," he declared. "He is under sentence of death. Any Asgardian who wishes to carry out that sentence may do so. From this moment forward, so be it."

He rapped Gungnir on the ground and said, without looking: "Loki: run."

For once in his life Loki seemed slow to grasp the situation - he wasted a moment staring with his mouth open, and when he finally did take action, it was only to lurch gracelessly towards the door.

The warriors of Asgard moved with more purpose; someone roared "Kill him!" and suddenly Loki's way was barred. He threw the first attackers back with a powerful blast of magic and drew his knives, but he was being forced back, and before long would be trapped full in a corner.

"Father. This is no different than if you executed him yourself," Thor said, desperately. "You must do something."

"You don't think your brother is capable of defending himself against all the warriors of Asgard at once?" Odin asked mildly.

"Are you-? No!"

"Then perhaps you had better help him."

********************************  
The End. Like I said: random.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw the Thor 2 preview. This popped into my head. Let me know what you think!

“When you betray me,” Thor said clearly, “I will kill you. Believe that, Loki.”

His brother rose slowly from his seat. Walked up to the glass. “Oh, I do,” Loki said. “And I accept – on one condition.”

Thor swallowed. “Name it.”

“The list of people you have obliterated with Mjolnir is almost endless.” Loki was quiet and unhesitating. “You kill them without a thought, and then later on as you clean your armor you wonder where the bits of skull and hair have come from. I don't want to join those inglorious ranks, Thor. When you kill me, I want you to remember it.”

Thor frowned at him but did not know what to say. Loki went on. “I want you to do it with your bare hands,” he said. “Around my neck. I want you to choke the life out of me with your own body. I swear I won't resist you. But I want to feel my death coming over me – and I want you to feel it too. Looking into my eyes. That, I think, you won't soon forget.”

An even longer silence. Then, suddenly, he stepped back and flashed a wide grin. “Do we have a deal?”

“Loki...” Finally, Thor found his voice. “Brother, I don't understand...”

“You don't have to. Those are my wishes – and you will agree to them, or I won't take one step towards helping you. It's the _end_ of my _life,_ Thor, the last thing I will ever know. I think I'm entitled to have strong feelings about it.”

Loki might be mad, but about this he was clearly in earnest. Thor palmed the lock and let the glass wall melt away. “Come here, brother.”

Loki stepped forward, and did not resist when hands settled gently around his throat.

Thor shifted to find a grip that was comfortable. He applied pressure until the sound of Loki's breathing grew a little harsher, looking unblinking into Loki's eyes. 

“Very well,” he said after a moment. He let go and moved away. “I can and I will: I swear it.”

If Loki was surprised, it did not show. “Good,” he said lightly. “Then, let's get started.” As they left the hall together he matched his stride to Thor's, as always. “And let's look on the bright side, brother: perhaps I'll keep faith with you, and you won't have to kill me at all.”

Thor would not turn to look at him. “Perhaps.”

*****************************************

The End.

For those of you curious about Family, new chapter is about half done and I'm planning to get it up this weekend.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:  Inspired by the Thor2 trailers.  Thor has come to Loki and proposed releasing him so that he can help save the realms from disaster.  And then...**

* * *

  _“When do we start?”_

_“First thing tomorrow.  I’ll fetch you at dawn.”_

This was to be his last night in the prison, then.  His last night for now, and most likely his last night _ever;_  he knew himself, and Thor, too well to think that he was going to survive this adventure.

It was his last night, so it was not exactly surprising that the guards came for him.  They had come for him his first night too.  He’d understood – break the prisoner’s spirit right away, teach him his place, et cetera, but of course he’d protested that it was not necessary.  They ignored him.  The beating was much more savage than he’d anticipated, and it made him angry, which of course led to some weeks of resistant and uncooperative behavior that got him beaten almost daily. 

Eventually, his sense of self-preservation had won out and he’d behaved himself and the guards began leaving him in peace.  They hadn’t come into his cell like this in months.

“Hello.  Come to see me off?” he said from his bed.  The basic courtesy of rising to greet a visitor didn’t seem appropriate when the visitors were coming to assault him.

Someone grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up to his feet.  “Really?” he complained.  “I don’t think this is fair.  I haven’t made your lives miserable in ages.”  He didn’t resist, because that only ever made it worse.   (It wasn’t that he minded the prospect of earning more serious injuries though; he’d doubtless be allowed to get healing before they left tomorrow anyway.   It was that the more battered he looked the more Thor would be able to tell he’d gotten his ass kicked, and that was humiliation he wanted to avoid if at all possible.)

Someone pressed his arms to his sides and bear-hugged him from behind.  It made him feel minutely better – at least he was still considered dangerous enough to require restraining.

A guard approached with a bit of rope stretched between his hands, and for a second Loki panicked.   Were they going to _kill_ him?   Thor would never allow that!  (Would he?)

He started to struggle, but before he got anywhere the guard stepped behind him and tossed the rope over his head… and tightened it over his mouth, not his throat.  Oh.

Still, it was now impossible for him to talk intelligibly – and he wasn’t willing to garble.   Also, before long like this he was going to be drooling.  Wonderful.

He rolled his eyes and glared at the guard in front of him.  _Get it over with._

“Sorry about this, your highness,” the guard said, before smashing a fist into his solar plexus.  As he fought for air he heard the man continue:  “…but it’s standard practice, for traitors and scum.”

The rope was digging in to his mouth even more as he tried to double over.  Before long he was pulled straight up again and readied for another blow.

They slapped him about the face – but with dull heavy blows that wouldn’t split his lips or blacken his eyes.  He would have thanked them for that courtesy, except he still wasn’t able to talk.

When his head was ringing they moved on to hammer at his guts.  Eventually it was too much to stay upright under and he was on the floor, at which point someone went at his kidneys.  Hard.

He was told to get up… but laid flat again by kicks to the ribs and belly when he tried.  He realized he was going to puke and crawled for his toilet.  They let him – with laughter that _someone_ was going to pay for, some day.

When he was done puking his whole body ached and he thought maybe they would go away.  How much fun could it be to batter a victim who took it without a word and wouldn’t even make eye contact?

Sure enough, someone dragged him to his feet.  “All right, there, Prince,” a guard said.  “Get some sleep.  You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Yes, he was going to lie down and never get up again.  He would collapse as soon as they let go of him and left.   Which they surely would do any moment now…?

But the guard in front of him gestured, and the one who was holding his arms behind him clamped down even harder.  _Fuck.  What now?_

Someone kicked his feet apart and _that_ didn’t bode well and he barked “No!  Nonono!” in a panic, even though the sharp breathing hurt his chest horribly.

People held his ankles and dragged him into an uncomfortably wide straddle and he swore and struggled but of course it got him nowhere. 

After the kick they stuck around a while to watch with great amusement as he rolled around on the ground wheezing and clutching at his crotch.

So much for taking the whole thing with dignity.

At least it was his last night.

**********************************

It was mid-morning when Thor finally went down to the dungeons.  Loki was sitting on his bunk, elbows on his knees, head bowed.  “You’re late, brother,” he said genially.

“I had… things to do.”  He watched Loki closely.  “Did you sleep well?”

Loki snorted.  “Better than I’ll be sleeping on the road, I imagine.”  He rose to his feet – stiffly.  “Can I pack some clothes?”

“Of course.  Come.”  He opened the cell, and handed Loki shackles. 

Loki eyed them with arched brows, but said nothing.

“Just for now,” Thor promised.  “Until I have a better idea what to expect from you.”  He’d chosen with care, a well-made pair with no sharp edges and a long connecting chain.

Loki shrugged and locked himself in.  He walked where he was bid.  He didn’t volunteer conversation, but nor did he refuse to answer when Thor addressed him.

Thor waited as long as he could… but it was not long.  They weren’t even fully out of the dungeons yet when he stopped, pushed Loki up against a wall, and said: “I heard some of the guards talking this morning.”

Loki’s face shuttered.  “Oh?”

He took him by the chin and tilted his face in the torchlight; Loki tried to pull away but he had never been strong enough and certainly was not now.   Loki’s lips were chapped, the corners of his mouth cut.   He was otherwise unmarked, but when Thor nudged him in the ribs without warning it drew a grunt of pain.

“Loki.”

Loki looked sullen.  “I’m fine.”

“You’re not-… I mean…” he sighed.  “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That four of the guards came into your cell last night and mistreated you.”

Loki was looking away – no easy feat, at these close quarters.  “There’s nothing to tell, Thor.  I said I’m fine.”

His prideful silence was not hard to interpret, and Thor wanted to shake him.  “Did you think I would not have sympathy?  That I would shrug it off?  How could you think that – how could you think I would do anything other than help you?”  He was trying not to lose his temper, trying not to raise his voice – and failing miserably.  “Here we stand, _out of the cell,_ because I have given you my trust, and now I see you can’t give me yours.  Even to-”

“I thought they were there on your orders,” Loki said sharply.  Stunning him into silence.  “But since that’s not the case, then: yes.  Yes, I feel like shit this morning.  I didn’t tell you earlier because I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

Thor could only stare.  Mouth open, shaking his head.

“I apologize if I’ve misjudged.  It’s easy to become paranoid down here.”

The guards had looked so shocked when he confronted them this morning.   As if they had thought he’d _approve_. 

He should have made his position clearer.  Not visiting all this time, refusing to discuss Loki in conversation… no wonder people had gotten the wrong idea.

Loki among them, apparently.

Thor hadn’t cried in front of his brother since childhood and he forbid himself to start now.  Instead, he stepped back from the wall and pulled Loki into a tight embrace.  It was a bad position; the shackles were between them and digging in uncomfortably, but he still had no plans of letting go until his brother had been well and truly hugged.

“Are you trying to smother me?” Loki asked at last.  Muffled in the layers of Thor’s clothing.

“No.”  His voice was rough and unsteady; it seemed he was near to crying after all.  “I just want to show you how wrong you are.  I would never, _ever_ have had you abused.  I haven’t been visiting only because it would have grieved me to see you in a cell.  And also,” he added, “Because I feared you'd be cruel and hostile to me.”

Loki snorted against his shoulder.   “A reasonable fear.”

“Still.  I did not even try,” he said aloud.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this ashamed of himself.  “I should have come.  Then they would never-…”  He squeezed harder.  “I cannot _believe_ anyone dared lay hands on you.”

“I can.  But thank you for your indignation on my behalf.”

“It was more than indignation.  I had them flogged within an inch of their lives.” 

He could feel himself shaking with emotion.  He’d very nearly torn the guards limb from limb himself; attacking helpless prisoners was dishonorable and disgusting, and to think they’d done it to _Loki_ of all people…

“Good,” Loki said against him – and then stirred.  “Now please let go.  I really did get worked over last night.”

Thor released him at once.  Apologized profusely for the pain he must have caused.  Promised a trip to the healing room.

And – after a small hesitation – offered to remove the shackles.  It seemed the only decent thing to do.

But Loki, incredibly, shoved him away.  “No,” he snapped, drawing his hands up to his chest.  “I’ll take your hugs because I’ve missed you, but I don’t need your pity.  I’m _fine,_ Thor.  Put that key away.”  He stomped off, head high.

Thor scowled, chased after him, and grabbed him with the full intention of enforcing his decision.  Then he realized how absurd it was: guards were going to walk in and see the crown prince wrestling with a prisoner in an effort to _release_ said prisoner against his will.

He chuckled.  But then he suddenly began to suspect that Loki was trying to provoke him into doing exactly what he just almost did.  The devious creature.   Oddly, he did not feel upset.   It was rather a relief, to learn that things might someday be back to normal.

He pocketed the key; for his own safety Loki shouldn’t roam loose in the castle anyway.  He caught Loki behind the neck and touched their foreheads together.  “We’ll discuss the chains later, brother,” he promised.  “And please have no doubt that I’ve missed you too.”


	9. Comprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-battle fic where the gang figures out what to do with Loki. 
> 
> WARNING for sewing - doesn't quite happen onscreen but the preliminaries are there.

 

* * *

When the adrenaline started to wear off, Tony started to worry.  He hadn’t taken the suit off, but there were plenty of people in this room who Loki _could_ hurt if he went apeshit… and while he appeared to be sitting quietly at the moment, he wasn’t exactly known for his predictability.

So when there was a lull in conversation, Tony opened his faceplate and cleared his throat.  “Uh, guys?  Are we going to be doing anything about _him_?”  Pointing to the pitiful heap on the floor.

Thor spoke up.  “Loki will be returned to Asgard, to face Asgardian justice.”

And after Thor, the good Captain had to have his say.  “I’m not sure our government will be okay with that, actually,” he said.  Chest out and arms crossed.  “Loki did a lot of damage here, and we like to bring people to justice ourselves.”

A tense silence fell.  And was broken by none other than Loki himself.  “Might I interject,” he began smoothly.

“No,” Thor snapped, “You might not.”

Loki shut his mouth.

It seemed they were at an impasse, which was fine by Tony because he didn’t much care _whose_ prison Loki spent the rest of forever rotting in.   Though on second thought, from a practical standpoint it would be nice if they sent him in Asgard’s direction, since Tony foresaw an enormously complicated and annoying process of constructing some sort of magic-proof cage himself (since SHEILD obviously sucked at it)… but again, that brought him back to his original concern. 

“No: I mean right now,” he clarified.  “Somehow I suspect NYPD handcuffs won’t do the trick, but I don’t like him just sitting there as is.  He should be in some kind of cage.”  _Preferably one very far away from here._

Thor laughed.  “I assure you, Mjolnir will keep him exactly where he is.”

The hammer was in Loki’s lap, and Tony would admit that so far Loki had had no luck even shifting underneath it, and yet.

“He could do hocus-pocus from _exactly where he is,_ ” Tony argued.  “He could call more of those alien things.  He could pee on my floor.”

Someone sighed.

But his point was well taken, it seemed, because after a moment Thor nodded and stood up.  “I will petition my father for restraints,” he said.  “Something that will bind Loki – and his magic – until we can arrange a means of transporting him home.”  Without any further discussion he turned and walked out onto the terrace.  Closed the door behind him.

“But we get reception in here!  I’ve got four bars.”  Everyone else looked just as perplexed, so he turned to Loki.  “Hey.  Rudolph.  What is Hammertime doing out there?”

Loki blinked.   “It, ah, consists largely of shouting up into the air,” he explained.  “He expects that Heimdall, our Guardian, will hear him and will convey the message on to our- to his father.  Odin will then summon up the magic necessary to grant him his request.”

“Oh, okay.”  Never a big fan of silence, Tony went on: “What kind of restraints are we talking, anyway?  I mean, there’s a couple of stores down the Village where I’m sure you could get any kind of-”

“Tony.”  Steve cut in, hard.  “This guy killed Phil.  Not to mention all the hundreds – probably _thousands_ of people the aliens took out.”

There was that.   He joked as a reflex, not as an _actual_ overture of friendship, but still, Tony supposed on reflection that he shouldn’t be talking to Loki at all.  He turned his back and went to watch what was going on on the terrace.

(It _was_ thousands _,_ certainly.  Tony had enough experience estimating the cost in lives of a damaged building, of gunfire into a crowd, of an explosion, to know.)

Anyway.   Thor’s prayer had been answered, it looked like, because suddenly a glowing rainbow beam burst down from the clouds and a small carved chest materialized.  Thor waved up into the sky and then brought the box indoors.

Tony clapped – as best he could in the suit – and hovered over him while he opened it.  “Let’s see what Santa’s brought us, kids!”

The first thing was a pair of cuffs – heavy silvery cuffs with a long connecting chain.  Tony hefted them, looked at the metal closely, and took whatever readings he could using his sensors.  

“Verdict?”  Bruce said from his seat.

“No idea.  It’s not from earth, that’s for sure.”  He handed them back to Thor and peeked down into the box.  “What the hell is that?”

Thor held up a curved metallic plate.  “It is a muzzle.  After his magic, Loki’s words are his greatest weapon.   Until they are taken from him he is not truly disarmed.”

Tony shot the prisoner a quick look, expecting to see smugness… but instead, Loki’s brow was creased hard.  “Just a muzzle, Thor?” he said – tense.

Thor reached once more into the box.  “No.  I am sorry, brother,” he said, and opened his hand to show a curved needle threaded with a long golden cord.

Tony was not _slow,_ but that still took a second to process.   When he got it he took a step back.  “Whoa,” he said.  “Wait a second.  We don’t do that here.  That is officially nasty.”

“What is?”  Apparently Steve, on the other hand, _was_ slow.

Natasha told him, cool as anything:  “He’s supposed to sew Loki’s mouth shut before he puts the gag on.”

Bruce sucked his breath in.

Clint chuckled.  “This I gotta see.”

* * *

Bruce looked to Loki to see his reaction, but besides a quick hateful look in Clint’s direction, he seemed mostly impassive.  Had this been done to him before?

If it had – given the clumsy way Thor handled the needle (with his unwashed, battle-grimy hands!) – it had hopefully been someone else to do it.

Tony seemed to have the same idea.  “Wait wait wait.   You look like a t-rex doing brain surgery.  Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Loki laughed, softly and not at all happily.  “That’s never stopped him before.”

Thor put the needle down.  “You act as if I sew your mouth closed on a daily basis!”

“You would like to.”

“Can you blame me?”

While the brothers bickered, Bruce was trying not to look at the needle thrown carelessly on the table – where Tony probably ate and drank and god-knows-what else.   Well, for all they knew Loki was immune to earth-germs anyway.  (Or, he was extremely sensitive to them.    Wasn’t that how the _War of the Worlds_ aliens died?)

“Ahem.”  Tony got between them.  “Much as I hate to interrupt this cute little family quarrel, I have to point out that my question has still not been answered.  _Are you sure this is a good idea?_ ”

Thor shrugged.  “Father has demanded it.  I cannot bring Loki before him if it hasn’t been done.”

“I am in full agreement with you, Thor,” Loki said firmly.  “I am in enough trouble as it is.  Let us not provoke him.”

Tony was looking at him as if he were crazy.  “Whoa whoa whoa.   Aside from the fact that that is _gross_ , and that it’s going to fucking _hurt…_ how the hell are you supposed to eat?”

Loki shrugged.  He looked… very defeated.  What the Hulk had done with him was starting to show up in lumps and bruises, but it was more than that.

“It will not be long until the trial,” Thor explained after a moment, “And Loki will certainly be allowed to speak for himself then.”

Tony’s hands went to his hips with a faint mechanical whirr.  “So, the stitches would come out in…?”

It was Loki who answered.  “No more than a couple of weeks.  Even if the Allfather were to convene a full court of all the-”

“ _Weeks_?”

Bruce finally opened his mouth.  “They’re not human, Tony,” he reminded.  Best shut this conversation down as quickly as possible; if Tony took it into his head to become Loki’s protector they would be arguing for another three hours.  He turned to Loki.  “Are you okay without food for a couple of weeks?”

Thor tried to break in.  “It is not Loki’s decision-”

“Because, a human would starve to death in that much time.”

Silence.

Tony gestured to him.  “Yeah, listen to the man: he’s a doctor.”

Thor sat with mouth pressed shut tight for a while.  Finally he said just: “Loki will not starve.”

Tony snorted.  “He’ll just get very, very hungry.”

Bruce stole another quick look at Loki.  Loki looked… smart.  He was watching Tony carefully.  He knew where his best chances lay.

Or, not.  Tony raised his head and said: “Fine.  I want him back up in your castle in the clouds, and if this Frankenstein shit is the way it has to be, then fine.  But I am going to feed him first.  My house,” he said over Steve, who attempted to interrupt, “My rules.   JARVIS?”

The disembodied voice answered at once.  “Yes, sir?”

“Pizza.  Lots of it.   Order… at least six pizzas.   We’re probably all starving, and Point Break’ll eat a whole one by himself.”

Pizza sounded good, actually.  Bruce felt glad, for half a second… until Tony burst his bubble by pointing to him suddenly.  (In the Iron Man suit, even a finger-point from across the room was pretty intimidating.)  “You!”

Bruce winced.  “Me?”

“You’re going to do it.  You’re a doctor.  And you’re not the kind of guy who could just sit by and watch some yahoo stab away at a dude’s _face_ with a _needle_ , when you know damn well you could do it better yourself.”

Actually, Bruce thought he was exactly that kind of guy.  He’d gotten quite good at the whole _detachment_ thing recently.

Now that he’d been called out, however, it would feel a little cruel.  “I- I don’t have any of my stuff here, Tony,” he objected anyway.

“Gimme a list.  I’ll make some calls and get you whatever you need.”

* * *

After consuming an entire pizza (it was a point of honor; if Thor could eat so much then so could he), Loki volunteered that he was ready.   There was no such thing as _ready_ , of course, but delaying would gain him nothing and it seemed best to proceed while everyone was feeling kindly disposed towards him.

“Okay,” the doctor said calmly.  “Tony will take you to the bathroom and get you a toothbrush and some mouthwash.   You don’t want bits of rotting food stuck in your mouth.”

Fully encased in his suit once again, the Iron Man said with his mechanical voice:   “I think I just threw up a little bit in my helmet.”

Loki allowed himself to be taken down the hall.  His hands were shackled in front of him, and there was an metal hand on his arm the entire time.  For a moment he felt offended at being led around like a prisoner, but he reminded himself that he _was_ a prisoner and made himself swallow the indignity.

He cleaned his teeth as directed and took a sip of the green fluid the Iron Man handed him.

He choked on it.

Mechanical laugher issued forth from the suit.  “No – no, Bambi, no, not at all.  Don’t you people have mouthwash at home?”   The faceplate slid away.  “Watch: it’s like this.  You swish it around in your mouth – and yeah, it stings, but it’s good for you, and then spit it out.  Like so.”

He demonstrated, and he looked ridiculous with his cheeks all puffed, but afterwards the cloud of breath he blew in Loki’s face was sweet and smelled of mint.

Loki tried it himself.  It felt caustic, almost painful, and for a moment he worried that it was burning away the skin inside his mouth.  But the human had just demonstrated it for him, and seemed none the worse for wear, so he continued for the count of twenty before spitting it all into the sink.

“There.  Good to go?”  The Iron Man waited for a nod before putting his faceplate back on and gesturing Loki out again.  “Come on.  Let’s get this over with.”

The green beast – the doctor – beckoned him over to the couch.   There was a bright light set up on a stand beside it, and a white cloth with an array of instruments spread out on the coffee table.

“Lie down.”

Loki had steeled himself to cooperate, but this was too big an affront to his pride.  “I’m not an invalid and I don’t need to be restrained,” he said.  “I will sit, and I will hold still for you.  I swear it.”

The doctor shrugged.  “If you want to sit you can sit – but Steve will stand behind your chair and help hold you steady for me.   I know you swear,” he said, over Loki’s attempt to talk, “But if you flinch, or faint, or _sneeze_ while I’m working, it won’t go well for you.”

He scowled.   “I don’t flinch, or faint, or sneeze.”

“And I don’t put stitches in people until I’m confident they’re not moving,” the doctor said.  “If you can’t work with that, Thor will just have to sew you up himself.”

He had been on the receiving end of Thor’s attempt to use a needle on a number of occasions.   None had been pleasant.  Without a word, he sat down on the couch, on the white sheet that had been spread out, and lay back.

He discovered that there were cushions arranged under the sheet, so that he wasn’t really lying flat.  More… reclining.   He felt less vulnerable than he had expected.

“Now.  Thor says we have to use this gold string here and this particular needle,” the doctor began, “Which he already put his paws all over.  But I sterilized them as best I can.”

Loki nodded.

“You’ll get lidocaine first, and we’ll wait a couple minutes for it to kick in, and then you’ll get the stitches.”

The female sniffed.  “He gets lidocaine?” she said, heavy with disdain.

 _What is lidocaine_?  But he wasn’t about to ask that, so instead he asked how many stitches he would be enduring.  It would be easier to bear if he knew how much longer he had to go.

“The fewer I put in, the more likely you are to tear them by accident,” the doctor answered, “So I’m going to put in a lot.  You’ll just have to be patient.”

He took a breath.  Willed himself to stay calm.

Then he chanced to look over at what the doctor was doing.   His hands – gloved, which made Loki very uneasy for some reason – were doing something with a long wicked-looking syringe.  “ _What is that_?”

The doctor looked surprised.  “It’s the lidocaine.  I told you-…” he frowned.  “You don’t know what that is, do you.”

Loki shook his head.

“It’s an anesthetic.  I inject it so that you don’t have to feel the stitches go in.”

Loki tried to think of a reason besides the obvious for giving him an anesthetic … and came up with nothing.  That, in combination with the pizza, was now too much to let pass unexplained.  “What have I done to deserve your mercy?” he said.

The doctor smiled – a little bitterly.  “Nothing, Loki.  I’m just a nice guy.  Now open your mouth.”

Loki did as he was told, but instead of reaching for the syringe, the doctor approached his face with a little puff-ball that had been soaked in an alarming-smelling solution of some kind.  “What is that?” he said, flinching away a little.

The doctor heaved a sigh.  “Just something to numb you up a little for the injection.  Open your mouth.”  When he obeyed the doctor pressed the puff-ball inside his lip, against his gum.  “Close.”   The doctor prodded at his jaw from the outside and nodded.  “Let that sit there for a second.”

A chemical taste was seeping across his mouth, making his tongue feel odd – and numb.  They really _were_ just giving him an anesthetic for the anesthetic.

Which was incomprehensible.  He could understand the impulse to make him insensible to the sewing itself; stitches might be hard to accomplish if he was writhing around and some people found a prisoner’s prolonged agony unpleasant to watch.  But this… there was no reason at all for this besides his comfort.  It was inexplicable.

He must have been giving the doctor a look that said as much, because the doctor chuckled.  “I told you, Loki: I’m a nice guy.  Okay: open up.”

The doctor removed the puff-ball and readied the syringe.  “There were probably a lot of nice guys out there who got killed today,” he said neutrally.   “I hope you find that really upsetting.  Open your mouth, wider.”

That was… unexpected.  Loki would have tried to say something (what, he wasn’t sure), except that his mouth was being held open.  “You’ll still feel a pinch and burn,” the doctor said.  “Just hold still.”   The needle did pinch, and he let out a breath that was audible.  “Sorry.  Little more.”  The pinch moved.  He kept quiet this time but his eyes were squeezed shut.  “Good, last one.”

After the third time the needle was withdrawn and the doctor let go of his face.  “Now we wait a minute or two for that to kick in.  Let me know when you can’t feel your mouth.”

His mouth felt odd, yes, but he thought he would still be able to talk and after this it would be a while before he got another chance.  “I am sorry for the loss of life on your planet,” he said as sincerely as he could.

The doctor looked him in the face.  “No you’re not.   Numb yet?”

He shrugged.   Pressing his tongue against different parts of his mouth did not feel the way it ought to, so he thought the medicine must be working.

“Okay.  I’ll put a little out here, too.”  A finger brushed his lip, and he felt it only as pressure and not really as touch.

The injections outside of his mouth didn’t really pinch at all, and he was now confident that the stitches were not going to hurt him.   Which, again, he did not understand.

After letting him sit in silence for a bit, the doctor picked up the needle and thread.  “This should be obvious,” he said, “But: once I start, don’t open your mouth or try to talk.   If something’s wrong, if you need a break, just raise your hand.  Got it?”

Loki nodded.

“Okay.  Here we go.”

He closed his eyes.  He felt pulling and pressure on his face, and knew that the doctor must be sewing, but there was no pain at all.  This was infinitely better than the time Thor had done it to him – and Thor was supposed to love him.  These humans were supposed to be his enemies.

He really didn’t understand.

* * *

The End.  Let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm pretty impressed with Natasha as a fighter. And after re-watching her and Loki talk through the cage, I kinda think she got under his skin. (Not sure why – jealousy maybe? That she's as bad as he is but someone still gave her a second chance?). So, I think he might keep tabs on her afterwards. Hence this little piece of fluff (fluff?).**

* * *

"Agent Romanoff."

Natasha was in the process of reaching for the orange juice but she didn't miss a beat. Instantly, before the words were even finished, her weapon was drawn and she was crouching behind the fridge door, calculating the likelihood that a bullet would pass through it.

(Likelihood: unknown. She really needed to learn more about the properties of her refrigerator. She knew her counter would provide cover from bullets, but as he was actually  _in the kitchen_ with her that wasn't going to help.)

(Besides, the intruder was  _fucking Loki_ and he didn't tend to use bullets.)

"What happened to  _facing Asgardian justice_?" she said, as calmly as she could. Didn't come out of the refrigerator, though. "I thought you'd be locked up or killed."

Loki chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint."

"No no, not at all." She peeked around the edge of the door, checked his reflection in the glass of the oven door. Couldn't see much: no gleam of scepter, but the glance she'd gotten before ducking for cover had told her that he was armored. Not great. "It's no problem you're alive. Considering you're not here to harm me or anything… right?"

"Come out and let's talk about it."

She swallowed and crouched lower. If she was going to rush him, it had to be a dive for his knees. Bowl him over and snatch whatever he was packing; alien weapons had to be more effective against him than her sidearm.  _Stall for time._  She had to think. "Um… thanks, but I'm good here." Slight tremor in her voice, pretend that she was afraid but playing tough. He'd like that.

"Do you really want to die in a refrigerator?"

_Fuck._  That was it. She sprung up and hurled a beer bottle at him, shot it for an explosion, and capitalized on Loki's flinch to tackle him.

She'd caught him by surprise, so with a few seconds of grappling in wet broken glass she managed to sweep him and get on top. She emptied the rest of her clip into his head, point-blank range, gun jammed against his eye because for all she knew Asgardians had incredibly thick skulls.

The shots stole her hearing…

…So she knew something was wrong when Loki  _tsk_ ed into her mind. " _Is that how you greet all your guests, Agent?_ "

And the body under her just  _dissolved,_  leaving her straddling nothing.

Fuck.

Loki stood over her, nudging her head with his (armored) knee. " _Don't do that again,_ " he mind-said to her, quiet but dangerous. " _It wouldn't have killed me, but it would have inflicted pain and injury I did not appreciate._ "

"Okay," she said, figuring he could hear her even if she could not. The gunshots – or the wrestling or the magic or maybe just the  _fear_  – had given her a sudden splitting headache. "I'm standing up now."

" _Of course._ "

She did it with her hands raised. Harmless. "That wouldn't have killed you?" she asked, conversational.

Loki laughed inside her mind. Didn't sound very happy though. " _Surely you've heard stories. I'm a survivor._ "

"Mmm. How about this?" she said, darting her eyes to his face and away again. Wetting her lips to telegraph. "Would  _this_  kill you?" And she arched up to kiss him.

He only froze for a second, but it was enough time for her to get one hand behind his neck and the other on his waist before he could murder her. From there she worked fast: he only had time to  _mmph_  in surprise, against her mouth, before she sucked his lower lip in hard and ground her crotch against his with authority.

His hips twitched in answer and one of his arms started to move – maybe to come around her? Or to shove her away? Regardless: he was too late.

Her waist-hand had found one of his knives. Her neck-hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head back, and she buried the blade in his throat.

She pulled away, shoved him back with a kick to the stomach, and watched him stagger.

She was watching his face. He looked put out, and definitely in pain, but she saw no dismay or fear. So this wasn't going to kill him, either – basically, nothing she had here in her kitchen would do the trick. Probably nothing would even come close.

Maybe it was time to stop fighting then; it was only going to piss him off.

She crossed her arms and waited for him to recover. It didn't take long: within a few seconds he had pulled the knife out and covered the wound with his hand. She could see glowing – was he healing himself?

"Why, Agent Romanoff," he purred, eyes wide with mock surprise. "Is this love?"

"What?"

"You'd have done better to cut. And you know it." He moved the hand, wiped at all the blood with his sleeve, and she could see that the wound was already entirely healed up. Dear fucking god. He really  _was_ a god. "I can only assume you were gentle with me on purpose."

"Gentle," she echoed, and gave him eyebrows. Then shrugged. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I wasn't pulling punches. You scared me and I lashed out – that's all."

"Mm. How disappointing." He ran his hand idly along the counter and then said calmly: "Don't do it again. I will punish you next time."

She drew herself up. "If you're planning to kill me anyway I really don't see what I have to be afraid of."

He laughed – but when he looked up she saw that the smile was really, really dark. "We both know that it's when they're  _not_ planning to kill you that you have the most to fear."

She conceded that with a head-twitch.

"And what makes you think I'm planning to kill you?" he said, mock-curious. "I think I've been quite friendly thus far. I've even healed your fragile mortal ears for you."

He had indeed. But still. "You did say something about dying in a refrigerator…?"

He shrugged. "I was only making conversation." With his patented look of  _innocence._  It was ridiculous to think that anybody ever trusted that look. (People said Thor generally did. Maybe he was even more of a mental midget than she'd thought.)

"Okay," she said, and matched his bland cool courtesy. "Then, please: make your conversation. I'm all ears."

He closed the refrigerator door. "I came here to give you some friendly advice."

"Mm." If she turned her back on him, then killing her would be  _too easy_ and he probably wouldn't do it. So she knelt and started picking pieces of broken glass up from the floor. "I wonder why I get the impression that it's not going to be friendly, and that I'd be way better off not taking it?"

"I have no idea. Here: let me." He knelt beside her and swept his hand over the mess. The glass and the beer all just disappeared.

"You could make a  _fortune_  as a cleaning lady."

He ignored her. "That mortal who's bedding you - and not well, if you want my opinion. Him. Are you very fond of him?"

He was spying on her in the bedroom? She arched eyebrows to demonstrate indignation, but that wasn't quite demonstration enough so she slapped him too. With her hand still full of glass.

Loki sighed and wiped the cuts away with a glittering stripe of magic. "I could  _swear_ I've asked you to stop attacking me."

She gave a saucy little shrug. "Oops." Maybe he would throw her around and spank her or something and then be on his way.

"I forgive you. That mortal," he insisted. "Are you close?"

He didn't sound jealous or seething. And if he ended up killing the guy it wouldn't be the end of the world anyway, so… why not give a true answer? "Close enough to fuck."

Nod. "Good: don't get any closer. He's dying."

"What?"

"He has the… the stench of an illness on him," Loki explained. "His body hasn't got more than a few years left. Probably less."

"Oh." Because that wasn't weird. Not at all. "So you've been going around smelling my dates."

He cocked his head. Fluttered his eyelashes. "That's more inappropriate than stabbing me in the neck?" he asked – an excellent impression of confusion.

She fluttered hers back. Are you…  _flirting_  with me?" He didn't answer. "Because… a piece of  _friendly advice:_  if you try flirting with me, the next time I stab you it'll be in the jewels."

He shrugged. "They'll heal too."

Now she was thoroughly off-balance. Couldn't even tell whether he was fucking kidding or not.

And finally,  _finally_ he was satisfied. "Have a good evening, Agent Romanoff."

"Yeah, uh, you too." She went back to the fridge to resume her snack. "And thanks for the heads-up about the fuckbuddy."

When she turned around, though, he was gone already.

(But he'd left the bloodstains for her to clean up.)

* * *

**The End.**

**Sorry for the lack of updates recently. Work's been brutal. But stuff is coming. Stay tuned!**


	11. See These Eyes So-... Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This feels like part of something larger, but I'm not sure what yet so here it is in the meantime. It's Loki and the Sweet-As-Pain guy, whose rank I'm only guessing at, chatting about their plans.
> 
> I continue to want to think that Loki had something up his (crazy, mindcontrolled) sleeve. The Chitauri attack is just so, so, so stupid and pointless and ineffectual otherwise!

* * *

“I want you to terrorize them,” Loki said. “The attack must drench the city with fear.”

The creature rumbled with laughter. “Yes. We will kill so many that the survivors will need years even to count the dead.”

Images flashed through his mind, courtesy of the scepter: scenes of destruction, bodies piled high, the Chitauri feasting on remains. His stomach flipped. _That is a poor strategic decision_. Surely he could explain so now; once the army began there would be no way he could get them to stop. “Were you not listening?” he said impatiently. “I said _fear._ ”

The creature lashed its tail. “Watch your tongue or we will cut it from you,” it hissed. “The mortals fear death. _Everyone,_ except for Him, fears death.”

That was not true: Loki, personally, had been in the process of deliberately seeking death when the Chitauri had found him. That was what had piqued His interest in the first place.

But he didn't think that bragging to the creature would be wise just now; there was already enough bad blood between them. As the commander of the Chitauri army, this creature was the one whom Loki's appointment had displaced. “Of course – I didn't mean to imply otherwise,” he said, polite and conciliatory. “Each mortal, standing alone, fears to die. But it's their... their collective consciousness that I'm talking about. If you'll forgive the expression, because we higher beings surely are beyond such things, but: it's their _heart_. You may know all there is to know about the biology and the weapons of humanity, but I know its heart. Let me explain.”

The creature scowled, but gestured for him to go on.

“The mortals value their weak above almost all else,” he explained. “Their young, their old, their women. If we let your armies wreak a slaughter, many will die frightened... but the living will be enraged. They will never kneel to us. They will never accept me as their king.” Loki paused. “Which means I will never be in a position to give the Tesseract over to you – or even to return the scepter, really.”

The creature moved towards him fast and he recoiled. (He tried to disguise the flinch as a bow, but the creature was doubtless not fooled as it could see straight into his mind and do as it pleased there). “Please don't misunderstand me,” he said, entirely failing at not sounding shaken. “I don't threaten. It's just simple fact: I need you to do as I tell you so that our plan will succeed. _He_ has told you as much.” Even invoking Him made Loki's skin prickle. “I know He has. This operation is to be carried out according to _my_ instructions.”

Sure enough, that drained the creature of all its aggression. “Very well. But how are we to make them fear us if we cannot kill any of them?” It was almost whining.

His heart skipped: the plan sounded absurd when spoken aloud, and He surely would not be pleased with a plan that was absurd. “I didn't say not to kill _any_ of them,” he corrected quickly. “That's not realistic, of course. But you must keep the killing to a minimum. Otherwise, every story told of that day will be of the mountain of corpses we left behind us – _we_ will fade from the tale entirely.”

The creature tensed a moment and then relaxed. It looked almost like a sigh. “Very well. How will we proceed?”

“I am having a device constructed that can open a portal in the earth's sky, directly to your homeworld.  It will be able to transport your armies safely.”

He felt the creature rifling through his mind. It no longer troubled him; he had long since learned to stop trying to lie to them. The portal really would be safe for travel, which was as far as he had ever thought.

( _-What is this newfound love for the frost-giants?_

He pushed the memory away quickly.)

The creature chuckled. “What will you need my Chitauri to do?”

He focused fully on the question at hand. “The mortals have raised a small band of superheroes whom they fancy can protect their planet. We will call those heroes to battle, and in the sight of all, your Chitauri will defeat them. The earth will know itself to be helpless. _Then,_ the mortals will cower in fear. _Then,_ they will be ready to receive me.”

“ _Then,_ you'll give us what we are due.”

Loki smiled. “Then I'll give you _everything_ you're due.”

* * *

The End?

I may continue this. If Loki had had some plan for using the Portal Contraption to wipe out the Chitauri mothership/planet/whatever-it-was, I'm curious how it would have played out.

Plus, I like the idea that the reason the Chitauri weren't killing civilians left and right is that Loki somehow tricked or convinced them not to. Otherwise they really are the most incompetent layer wasters (waste-layers?) ever, which makes them a lot less impressive to me, giant stone Nessie notwithstanding, since laying waste appears to be pretty much their main job.

 

 


	12. See These Eyes - part 2

**A/N:  Continuation of the previous chapter: how the Tony/Loki confrontation would have gone differently...**

* * *

 

The bad news was that when he arrived Loki was down there on the balcony, armored and dangerous, with the scepter in his hand.

The good news, though, was that the scepter could be fired at a distance but Loki wasn’t firing it. Hopefully, that meant he wanted to talk.

Tony landed, nutted up and started the suit removal sequence. Loki nodded at him and headed inside.

Once they got indoors Loki took off his own helmet, and from nice and up close Tony could see that he was smiling. “Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity.”

The scepter was crackling dangerously. “Uh, you might notice I'm not really dressed for roughhousing anymore,” he said. “You mind putting that thing away?”

Loki shifted his grip. “Oh, the touch of the scepter can be  _incredibly gentle_ ,” he purred. “Allow me to show you.”

Tony backed away fast, hands raised. “Whoa there, pal. Not on a first date.”

“You should thank me for the offer.”  Was he _offended?_  “The Chitauri are coming, and you can fight  _with_  them – as I am – or they will kill you. _”_

“Mm.” Tony meandered away, towards the window. “So, here we have a slight variation on the  _we can rule the galaxy as father and son_ speech: instead of offering me halfway ownership of a galaxy, you're offering me brainwashing and slavery.” He pretended to think about it. “Mmmm... survey says... not a good deal.”

Loki shrugged. “Barton was perfectly happy.”  He re-gripped the scepter. Fidgeting.  _“Was._ But I can no longer sense his mind. What happened – did you kill him?”

The question was casual – too casual.  Barton had served his purpose and Loki wouldn't give two shits about someone who had served his purpose; why bring him up?

“No,” he answered, just as casually. “We just broke the scepter's hold on him, that's all.”

Loki went still.

“Oh, you didn't know we could do that?” He gave a grade-A Tony Stark smirk. “Well sorry to burst your bubble there, Voldemort, but: not as foolproof as you thought.”

“How?”

Tony knew better than to monolog at length, but he couldn't resist bragging just a little. “It was actually pretty easy:  _Cognitive recalibration,_  via a hard-ass blow to the head.”

“Mm. Hard blow to the head. I see.” Loki ran a hand through his hair. Glanced down to his helmet on the coffee table. Glanced back to Tony.

 _Whoa._ Tony raised eyebrows. “So... what would happen if I went right now and put my suit back on?”

“I can't see how that would benefit me or my allies, so: I would stop you.”

“Why are you trying to help me?” he asked suddenly. Loki froze. “...You know, by offering to induct me into your little scepter club?”

The god relaxed. “You remind me of someone I like,” he said.

No prizes for guessing who; Tony was willing to bet that Loki liked very, very few people. “You think so? Because, when  _I_ was ordered by a bunch of bad guys to help them carry out their evil plan, what I did was I  _pretended_ to cooperate, while actually building something that would destroy them.”

Loki's smile was nasty. “Oh, I’ve heard.  But I’m not too impressed; your _bad guys_ weren’t able to see into your thoughts and manipulate them.”

That smile was not readable; he needed more information.  “Definitely wasn't playing on expert level, I’ll give you that,” he said easily.   “If I had been...?”

“Then you’d have had to excise every disloyal thought from your brain, on pain of torture most severe,” Loki said calmly. “But here the scepter does help – it dulls any rebellious feelings you might have. Dampens impulses that might be problematic.”

Dulls. Dampens. Not  _eliminates_.

“Got it.”  And he  _did._ “So... what exactly would the Chitorry want me to  _do_?   Because killing innocent civilians is a non-starter for me. Hard limit.”

Loki waved the concern away.  “No, the civilians are beneath our notice. It's the Avengers that must be destroyed. And they will be, whether you help or no.”

“And the offer is, if I help you, then I get to live.”  He hated that he could play this scene convincingly; he wished that capitulating was something he just didn't even know how to pretend to consider.  

“Yes. I know you're worried that you'll hate yourself, and you might, but at least you'll be alive to do the hating.”

He glared, then dropped his eyes.

Loki took that for a yes. “Relax; this won't hurt,” he said, and stepped up with the scepter raised.

At the last second Tony turned, so that the point glanced harmlessly off his shoulder. “Wait. Once you do your thing with the thing, I won't be able to suit up – Jarvis is under instructions never to release suits to me if I'm not in my right mind. I have to get dressed now, while I still can.”

Loki regarded him suspiciously a moment, and then suddenly demanded: “Jarvis.  Is that true?”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said without hesitation.

Loki shrugged. “Then, get on with it.”

Tony overrode Jarvis's warnings and got inside the mark VII - except for the faceplate.   People had a hard enough time trusting him when they _could_ see his eyes.  “Okay: suit's under manual control,” he said calmly. “No interference possible from Jarvis or SHIELD or anyone else. Except for, you know.” He gestured to the scepter.  “Wetware malfunction.”

“Excellent.”  Loki raised the scepter again.

-and Tony blasted him across the room with both cannons.   Followed him and blasted again.  

Bits of wall were raining down on them and Loki slid to the floor.  Tony fell on him hard, straddled him with all the weight of the suit, and got to work.  The beating would have killed a human easily, killed most non-humans too... but this was an all-or-nothing enterprise; if it didn’t work and Loki got angry, he was in real trouble.

“Sorry- sorry- sorry-...” He was saying it with every blow. But the floor cracked and Loki's skull didn't, and he started to worry that even the suit wasn't going to be strong enough. He got up, grabbed the god into a bear-hug, and took off towards the windows.

“Aagh-  _Stark_!” Loki yelled his name as they went through the shatterproof glass, and stopped fighting him in favor of hanging on desperately. He was shrieking something. Probably  _what are you doing._  That's what people usually said when Tony started to implement a good idea.

Tony flipped his mic on. “This is for your own good,” he said. Mic off. “Or, it's going to kill you. We'll know which pretty soon.”

He stabilized in the air outside the tower, looked around for a building under construction. He could see massive metal beams, surely strong enough for this.

He flew close, tossed Loki up and re-gripped him – by the legs. Loki struggled but it was no use; Tony spun him around two or three times for speed, and then smashed him hard enough to dent the steel.

Loki went limp, unconscious at least, and Tony returned to the tower with the god cradled against his chest.

* * *

When he woke up Thor was standing over him – grim and impassive.

“Thor.” He felt his lips curl into a sneer, and he waited...

But the hot rush of hatred, scorn, impotent malice never came. He let out a long shaky breath, feeling suddenly lost. “Thor,” he repeated, trying to find lucidity. Where was he? Why did he hurt so badly?

Thor's face changed abruptly. “ _Loki,_ ” He swooped down, and Loki meant to flinch away but found he could not move. “Brother I'm so sorry, I'm-... Are you all right?”

Thor was reaching past his head now, up to his arms... and suddenly a great weight was lifted off his hands. “Pinned me with your hammer, did you,” he chuckled. Where was he? “Some things never change.”

He sat up slowly, aching everywhere, and saw that there were people clustered around him. People he could name immediately, though he didn't immediately know  _why._  “Romanoff,” he said to a firm beautiful woman all dressed in black. “Captain,” to a man in blue.

“Hey.” Tony Stark, the Man of Iron, knelt by him suddenly and shook him by the shoulders. “I'm sorry to interrupt your gentle wake-up process here, but we're on the clock. Do you know what's going on?”

He blinked up at Stark's face, trying to understand. “I trusted you,” he remembered. “I signaled something to you, and you understood me.”

“Oh,  _gods._ ” Thor's voice was thick as if he might cry. “I have wronged him.”

Loki twisted around to look up at him. “What? Wronged who?”

“Hey. Loki? Pay attention.” Stark grabbed his chin and faced him forward again. “Look at me. You get the nutshell-in-a-nutshell version, because we really don't have time for this. The army is coming. The Chitorry. Right?”

 _The Chitauri._  He recoiled, remembering them suddenly, repellent and insectile, with hard shells and dead eyes and hungry, clicking jaws. “What about them?”

“They're coming,” Stark repeated. “That's what you told me. You built some kind of portal device that's going to let them come into this world – and it's starting to boot up, so let's get a move on.  We have to shut it down.”

 _They're coming._  The knowledge pooled like sludge in his stomach.

“Jarvis? Jog his memory.”

The wall flickered, and suddenly was a screen.  _The Chitauri are coming,_  his screen-self said.  _You can fight with them – as I am – or they will kill you._ He could hardly stand to watch himself, much less allow all these mortals to do it. It was like waking from a night of drunkenness to find everyone laughing at him for behavior he couldn't remember. The violation made his skin prickle.

“Turn it off,” he growled.

Stark did it with a wave of his hand. “Do you remember now? About the portal? Please tell me you have a plan for screwing them with it somehow.”

 _The Bifrost will build until it rips Jotunheim apart!_  The memory came to him suddenly, so forcefully that his teeth bared and he reached for Gungnir that wasn't there.

He had remembered that night more and more often lately. He had felt in some way that it was important, but he'd known better than to dwell on it or wonder why.

“The Bifrost,” he said. He didn't like thinking aloud, mumbling like an idiot, but he knew he was not thinking very well and perhaps it would be good if others could follow along and help him. “Yes.  I’ve been thinking of it.  Of how the Bifrost could be used for transport but also for destruction. A portal-... no, not a portal but a... a  _bridge._ ” He seized on Selvig's word. “It creates a bridge, for a moment, but if you leave the connection open too long it will begin to, to pull at the fabric of their world. Their space. Whatever it is.”

“It will rip it all apart,” Thor put in. In wonder. “As Heimdall always warned us. Loki, you are brilliant as always.”

Rip it all apart.  Rip _them_ all apart.  Yes.  He loved it.  He felt savage.  “How you have changed!” he sneered.  “Time was you'd be  _annoyed_  if I found a way to win without you rushing off to smash things.”

Stark cleared his throat. “Well, uh, in that case, Thor buddy, this is your lucky day. We've got something incoming, and my guess is it’s not friendly.”

The group went to the window. (Loki went with help, which he hated, but he wasn't quite proud enough to insist he could walk on his own). “What on earth,” said the Captain.

“Not earth,” Thor said grimly.

Loki had to laugh. “I told you they were coming. I  _told_  you!” He was right. Right as always! He knew he was hysterical but that was no help; he laughed anyway.

Someone was laying hands on him. Shining light into his eyes. “Look at me,” said a steady, quiet voice. “Do you know what  _concussion_  is? You're sitting this one out.”

“I'll babysit him,” the woman said. “Until someone can tell me what the hell those things are and what you want me to do about it.”

The Man of Iron clunked up to them. “Fine. Yes. Here's the plan: we engage the baddies and keep them busy. We can't let them start firing into the crowds.”

“I took care of that already,” Loki said. Giggling, still. He really  _was_  brilliant – even when he wasn't in his right mind. What did that say about his right mind? “I told them not to bother with the civilians. That the Avengers were the ones they should target. What?”  Everyone looked furious at him. “What’s the matter?”

“Dude, you put out an intergallactic hit on us,” said the Iron Man's mechanical voice. “Screw you.”

Thor's arm fell on his shoulders. “Loki did what he thought was best. Do not criticize him.” He was forcibly turned so that the blue eyes could bore into his. “Loki. I will do battle with those foul creatures.” He spoke slow and clear, as if  _Loki_ was the halfwit. How things had changed! “You must stay here and manage the portal. See that it causes the destruction you have promised.”

Oh, he liked destruction. He laughed. “As you wish, brother.” He tried to be serious and think. Think of the portal.  “I'm obviously not at my best. I need Selvig. Where is Selvig?”

“I'll take care of it.” Romanoff again. “Thor. Tony.  _Go._  Cap, Bruce: Clint will take you in the jet and figure out a way to deploy you.”

Once the room emptied out, the woman tugged him by the arm and handed him his helmet. “Come on, Selvig's outside. Wear this. If those things come for us, are you able to fight?”

He tried for a smile, but he could feel that there was too much teeth and no mirth at all.  “Your gutters will run with blood and ichor,” he said.  “They will not take me alive again.” 

If she was disturbed, it didn't show. “Good. Come on.”

As she led him away she was holding his hand, and he had to laugh one last time. Not as unhinged now though; he could hear it. “So it seems you're here to tend my wounds after all, Agent,” he purred. “Just as I initially suspected.”

“If you're trying to be the biggest ass on the team,” she said, bored, “Give up. Tony's got you beat by a mile.”

 _On the team._  It was a warm rush but he tried to ignore it; sentiment was a waste of time and he had work to do.

* * *

 

**The End.  Let me know what you think.  I'm just psyched for things to work out well for Loki for a change...**

 


End file.
